


please please please (make you're home in me)

by ymguchi (complex_andhera)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, i tried but honestly i was tired and sad for most of this day so it's not my best, please be gentle i know it's mediocre at best, yay another extremely abrupt unfinished drabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complex_andhera/pseuds/ymguchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi meets a hot blond in the shittiest bar in town. If only it was just a simple hook up, instead of the most complicated, heart-wrenching relationship of his entire life. Poor, poor Yamaguchi, he has absolutely no idea what he's getting himself into. </p><p>[gradstudent!yamaguchi and secret!popstar!tsukishima]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. yamaguchi encounters an attractive stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yama gets lucky @ a bar. tsukki looks good and smirks alot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! im starting to fall in love with this fic, i'm gonna start updating more while summer break's still going on
> 
> pls let me know how i'm doing!! comments and critique are always gr8 :D
> 
> also my tumblr is ymguchi.tumblr.com hmu and we can yell about soggy french fries and short cakes!!

Yamaguchi takes a drag of his cheap cigarette and chases the bitter taste down with and even stronger shot of whiskey. 

It's been a long week and his feet are aching from standing all day. He rubs at his soles and sinks down, full body, onto the cushy leather bar seat. 

Being a research assistant in a marine biology laboratory of the most exciting jobs he's even been working, but standing upright for 10 plus hours checking on tank pressuring and gathering data on various cold water species is taking a solid part of his remaining youth away, which is why he finds himself here, at the bar that most of his college teammates used to frequent after practice matches and for celebratory drinks, just to catch a few hours of free time before his has to retire to his empty apartment and wait for the silence to lull him into an uncomfortable half sleep. 

He's bored, not because the nature of his work is boring, per se, but mostly because it's been quite a while since he's made a real human connection with someone who doesn't smell like seaweed, and he's starting to get put off by the numerous office girls and their tittering giggles and too polite comments behind closed palms that only hold venom. 

Mostly, he works with women, older scientists who are diligent in their work and quietly meticulous in their research, and he looks up to them with the utmost respect (his mother was one such woman, the one who first sparked his interest is sea creatures and stars), but the new interns he's been grouped with make him deeply uncomfortable sometimes, because they keep trying to set each other up with him, and continue to guilt him by offering him an assortment of their best cooked dinners and sweetest baked desserts, which he accepts greedily enough because, well, he's poor but not stupid. 

Suddenly, a man brushed up by him at the bar. His nose is prominent, aristocratic, and his hair and his eyebrows are boldest blond, giving him an overall serious, if not mysterious appeal. 

"Hmm? Ah, sorry," The man finally looks down to see where their coat sleeves are brushing. 

"I'm sorry, there isn't much room here today, and my limbs are tired and I just wanted one drink before heading home-" 

The guy just hits him with a scathing look, and Yamaguchi shuts up almost immediately. 

“Spare me the sob story, freckles.” he snorts derisively, and Yamaguchi manages to sink lower into his seat than before. But then the beautiful, mysterious blond stranger waves over the bar tender, and before he knows it there are two chilled pints sitting in front of them, so cold that Yamaguchi can’t resist rubbing his fingers in the perspiration clinging to the counter. 

“It looks like you need a couple drinks, yeah? So just sit down, shut up, and let me buy you a couple rounds.”  
“Um...I mean… It’s okay, you don’t really need to do this for me…” Yamaguchi is already picking at his skin, a terrible habit that he’s had since childhood and still can’t get rid of. “You d-don’t even really, like, know me,” 

“I don’t really know much of anyone here, honestly. I’m new, I just moved from Tokyo.” 

This is the first time that this mysterious stranger has looked anything short of confident and cocky, and Yamaguchi blushes because his uncertainty is really endearing. 

“R-really? That’s...kinda cool.” What the hell are you doing in this podunk, university town all the way up here in the North? Yamaguchi thinks to himself, as this stranger literally looks like he could be off of the cover of a J-pop magazine. 

“You’ll think I’m weak, if I tell you,” he continues in his enticing accent. Yamaguchi could honestly sit and listen to him speak for days, about any topic at all. He traced the rim of his beer glass, wistfully, thinking about the pathetic few lays that he’s had since he moved up here to go to school (none of them quite as sexy as the man sitting in front of him). 

“No, not at all…” Yamaguchi trails off, clinking their glasses lightly. He knocks back a couple of shots that come by on a waiter’s tray, and his handsome drinking partner raises a delicately plucked eyebrow at his recklessness. Still, he doesn’t budge, so Yamaguchi gives up and knocks him gently against the shoulders. 

“Can I at least get your name? So I can...pay you back for the drinks later?” 

Suddenly, his cohort looks at him with eyes narrowed, his gaze predatory as he rests his cheek on his knuckles, watching Yamaguchi almost like he’s an enticing piece of meat. One of his fingers comes to trace the narrow outline of Yamaguchi’s shoulders, straying down to play with his collar and briefly, teasingly, playing with the knots of hair that cluster at Yamaguchi’s neck, falling loose from his ponytail as he sharply inhales. Suddenly, he pulls Yamaguchi’s tie so that his mouth rests comfortably at Yamaguchi’s ear, where he calmly whispers, “My name is Kei. Kei Tsukishima.” 

And as quickly as he pulled Yamaguchi close, he shook him back and turned back to his drink as if nothing had happened. He straightens his shirt and drinks the last of his beer before pulling on his coat and shrugging it over his shoulders. 

“You taking me home with you, or what? Hurry up, I really don’t want to sleep in the children’s park again.” He’s already walking away, before Yamaguchi’s brain can unfreeze and he can actually process what the hell just happened. 

(He’s not entirely sure if Tsukishima is actually joking).


	2. yamaguchi fucks the attractive, not-so-stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yamag takes the hot foreign guy home and finds out that this isn't the first time he's heard (of) him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a really good one i hope y'all enjoy. first time writing anything remotely sexual, so it might not be great, but i hope that it makes up for the shitty, short first chapter. comments and kudos are always, always appreciated!! have a nice day c:
> 
> also my tumblr is ymguchi.tumblr.com hmu and we can yell about hq season 2, animated akaashi, and yamaguchi's jump float serve!! also suggest me good plot ideas, if you want to!!

Well, after an introduction like that, it's not hard for Yamaguchi to take Tsukishima home. He's practically yanking him over to his car, pulling at the deceptively nondescript gray hoodie and burying his fingers in the firm chest that he can feel underneath. And that hair! Yamaguchi can't resist running his fingers through it, savoring the way Tsukishima lets his head fall back and moan, unabashedly, and the only word that he can really make out is “More”. 

(Yamaguchi nearly crashes his car more than a few times.)

(Luckily he doesn't live too far from the podunk bar anyways). 

And he's tugging him into the kitchen, stepping on the edges of sneakers that he knows are going to be expensive, yet tasteful, and he melts a little bit when Tsukishima laughs at his eagerness, a deep, low chuckle that tickles at Yamaguchi's lips, featherlight touches. His fingers play with Tsukishima’s collar, and he gets the hint to pull off his shirt, barely even breaking into a sweat while Yamaguchi can’t even maintain a semblance of calm. His fingers are attracted to the milky skin and the sharp edges where Tsukishima’s collar bones meet at the juncture of his neck, so he scrapes, lightly, searching his eyes and almost asking for permission to kiss him. Tsukishima can’t seem to stop laughing at him, mocking his seeming innocence with deprecating smiles, but Yamaguchi’s willing to let his smugness go because he was correct, and under that stupid button down Kei was beautiful, subtle muscles rippling from his shoulders all the way down to the V shaped juncture of his hips. Yamaguchi could feel his lips watering, but he restrained himself, bringing his hands to rest and Tsukishima’s collar so he could move forward and kiss him, tenderly, letting his hands explore shyly from Kei’s collarbones to his skinny hips, playfully touching the muscles that enticed him. Tsukishima was a study in anatomy, a fine specimen of chiseled musculature and well formed bone structure, Yamaguchi made a note to observe him closer when all of this was done-

Until Tsukishima stuck his tongue right into Yamaguchi’s mouth.

(It was almost like he was shutting Tadashi up, willing him to move onto more, ehm, pressing needs.) 

Tsukishima was hardly a reluctant, touristy beauty in their tangle, pushing Tadashi down impatiently, without care, pulling his hair and tugging him to lick all the right places, before nudging him towards the prize beneath the waistline of what Tadashi guess were purposely distressed designer jeans. His ferocity urges Tadashi on, somehow, making his touches less careful and his bite marks more prominent, bolder against Kei’s already pale skin. He climbs out of his shell entirely with the symphony of moans and little gasps that Tsukishima rewards him with, especially after he finally takes him into his mouth fully. 

Tsukishima is vocal, loud in his shouts of yes, more, go faster and direct with what he wants Tadashi to do with his body, and this thrills Tadashi, somehow, being able to fully take control of this foreign beauty while he’s writhing in his bed, back bowed in an perfect U and glasses fully askew amidst the sweat tinted tangles of his blond hair. His selfishness makes Yamaguchi go harder to give him what he truly wants, to find the spots inside of him that make him cry out louder and, eventually, to ram into him hard enough to force out the gasps that Kei tried so hard to conceal. 

They moved together in an uneven harmony, Yamaguchi giving too much, Tsukishima taking everything that he can, getting fat off of Tadashi’s adoration, and their tempo speeds up under the rickety springs of Tadashi’s mattress, as his fingers try in vain to cover Tsukishima’s mouth so that all of their neighbors won’t hear them boning (they only know how rarely Tadashi ever gets any kind of action, he’ll be humiliated on his walk downstairs tomorrow morning on his way to work). 

(The way Tsukishima pulls at his hair when he’s going down on him, eating him out after coming inside the used condom in order to prolong Tsukishima’s orgasm and make him fall over the edge yet again, and the way Tsukishima screams without restraint yes, yes, YES, YOU’RE SO FUCKING GOOD! makes it totally worth it, regardless.) They collapse, Yamaguchi carelessly throwing his entire body weight on Kei, and enjoy the after glow….

...for about 30 seconds. 

And then the silence sets in, and Yamaguchi thinks it’s going to be a comfortable one at first. He rolls off of Tsukishima, apologizes for just putting all his weight on him, and nestles in close next to him. His arm comes to rest under Tsukishima’s shoulders, and he gives into the impulse to pull him into his arms so he can run his fingers through Tsukishima’s har and stare at the ceiling. And it is nice at first, both of their breathing starts to return to normal and the light sheet lets them cool under stand fan that Tadashi has to knock a few times before it actually starts running. 

But then Tsukishima starts to fidget underneath him, and the sweat dries and sticks to both of their bodies uncomfortably. The room is too warm and they don’t have much to say to each other (it’s not exactly like Tadashi is a pro at this whole “mind blowing casual sex” thing). So Tsukishima pulls his lank form out of the bed and shrugs on Tadashi’s shirt before asking if it’s okay to use his shower. Yamaguchi, at this point, already knows that he can’t deny him anything, and murmurs his acquiescence before pulling the covers over his body and praying that Kei won’t just shower and leave like most of his one night stands tend to do. 

He’s about to drift off, on the verge of dreaming but still consious of the stranger roaming his apartment like he owns the place, like he owns Tadashi’s body itself (he wouldn’t be entirely long, if this man asked him to come abroad with him to be his sex slave for the rest of his live, well, let’s just say that he’s already packing his bags, so long to his pathetic research job and his shitty undegrad students). 

And then he hears something that makes his heart stop. Not screaming, not yells of anger or pain, or a burglar climbing in through the fire escape, but the sound of singing. 

It’s a melody that he’s heard many times, over and over, from the speakers of his younger sister’s laptop and occasionally from the top trending tracks that decorate the youtube homepage, when he’s trying to find clips from his new favorite anime or old recordings of The Daily Show. 

And it isn’t just the voice of Tsukishima Kei, handsome stranger who almost forced Tadashi to take him home and fuck him properly before ditching him in the afterglow. 

It’s the voice of Hotarou, the famous Japanese pop idol and lead singer of the wildly popular band the Young Crows, that his younger sister and most of all her bratty friends (not to mention a large chunk of the teenage girl population) have been losing their hearts to left and right and stalking on the red carpet. 

And it’s coming from his tiny bathroom shower.


	3. yamaguchi finds out the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clumsy yam is adorkable. tsukki's ice shield melts, a little bit, and our two main characters get to know each other a little bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! sorry it took so long to update, but I wrote the last two chapters all in the same day, so i hope that it makes up for it a little bit!! tell me how you think it is, okay? comments and criticism are always appreciated. 
> 
> sorry it's going so slowly as well i promise that the plot will get more exciting soon!! thanks for sticking w this silly fic

Yamaguchi would like to pretend that he didn’t fall out of his damn bed. He would like to pretend that he reacted to the whole famous-person-in-my-shower cliche with anything less than absolute grace. Granted, he’d like to believe that he also did not take a famous person home, make them scream, and then cuddle somewhat awkwardly for about 2.2 seconds before falling out of his bed in shock, but well, it looks like life has something quite different in stock for him. 

The water running in the shower finally shuts off. 

Yamaguchi starts to panic now, in earnest, and he can’t figure out the best way to cover up his reddening cheeks and sweaty brow before Tsukishima is already stepping back in his room, wearing nothing else except for Yamaguchi’s single white towel and his black glasses. He cocks an eyebrow up at the sight of Yamaguchi lying on the floor contemplating all of his live mistakes. 

“Need some help…?” Yamaguchi can’t believe this. He’s obsessing over Tsukishima Kei for the last half an hour, and this guy has the audacity to go ahead and forget his name. 

“Tadashi.” Yamaguchi accepts his hand even if he’s a little bit offended, and Tsukishima helps him to his feet before dropping his towel and climbing back into Yamaguchi’s bed. He pulls Yamaguchi under the covers with him, and Yamaguchi goes, unwillingly, but he’s only resisting for a quick minute before the heat of Tsukishima’s body melts him completely, and he accidently tangles their legs together before Tsukishima pulls him over his body so that he can cover him completely, 

Yamaguchi love, love, loves being the big spoon but he rarely ever gets to cuddle the few people that he’s hooked up with, aside from his first ex, Yachi, the tiniest girl that he’d ever had the privilege to date. Her body fit perfectly against his, and she could curl up into a ball and doze off in Yamaguchi’s arms like she belonged there. (Clearly she didn’t, as the broke up a short while later, after collectively deciding that they were both way to gay to function, and hooking up with her glasses wearing, dark haired, beauty of TA while Yamaguchi bid them both good luck and continued picked up random, dark haired guys in shady bars). 

But with Tsukishima, every thing is uncomfortable and awkward, their too-long limbs clashing and the tug-of-war over the scanty blankets leaving Yamaguchi’s feet freezing. But it’s still nice, enveloping the body of a man who looked so confident and self-assured nearly an hour ago now shrinking his back against his body and letting him just hold him, take care of him and distract him from his undoubtedly large problems just by simply existing. Yamaguchi can’t resist playing with Tsukishima’s hair, running his fingers through the slightly damp, tangled mess. Tsukishima doesn’t fight him, aside from shifting around a little bit until he gets comfortable again. Yamaguchi’s already tied his hair back into his tiny ponytail, and he’s just on the verge of falling asleep again. 

“What are you running from, dandelion? What’s got you looking so sad?” 

Yamaguchi freezes. Those lyrics just slipped out of his mouth; Tsukishima tenses from underneath him, his shoulders stiff and his back ramrod straight. His heart is beating like crazy, but he doesn’t turn to glare at Yamaguchi,and he can feel the hesitant contentment that was budding between them evaporating rapidly as the tension thickens. 

“You’re...a fan of Jpop or something? Seems kind of like a niche hobby in America,” 

Yamaguchi can tell the Tsukishima is trying to make small talk, but the thing about it is that he’s so terrifically bad at it, his words come out forced and Yamaguchi starts panicking internally all over again until Tsukishima finally turns over to fix him with a hard stare and arms crossed over his chest, daring him to answer. 

“Why the hell are you in America?” is all that Yamaguchi can blurt out. 

He covers his mouth immediately, in shock. He has no idea why he quoted a verse from famous Hotarou’s first and most popular single, the title track of his first album that Yamaguchi knows he produced when he was fresh out of high school (his sister told him, okay, she couldn’t stop blathering about how talented he must have been, how hard he must have worked to become so famous so young in his life-)

And Tsukishima looks like he could murder him. 

“I told you in the bar,” Tsukishima spit out coldly. “You’d think I’m weak.” 

Yamaguchi’s brows furrow, and Tsukishima’s ice facade thaws out a tiny bit at his confusion. Tsukishima traces his arms, but he doesn’t stay distracted for too long.

“I may or may not have run away when I should have been on tour,” 

Yamaguchi blinks. And then he blinks some more. “WHAT?” is the first and only thing that comes out his mouth, which hangs agape as he tries to process that drama that is unfolding in his bedroom. 

Tsukishima winces at his reaction. “Would you please calm down? It’s not such a big deal, seriously…” 

He ruffles his hair, and Yamaguchi suddenly thinks that he looks adorable without his glasses, a couple years younger and seemingly innocent. He can totally see him on the cover of J-POP magazines, with his glossy hairs and slim fingers cradling a microphone the way he was grasping Tadashi’s shoulders just a moment ago. 

“So you just...left? In the middle of your tour?” Yamaguchi asked incredulously.

“Yeah...um…” Tsukishima has the decency to look ashamed of himself momentarily, averting his eyes from Yamaguchi’s insistent questions and his anxious looks. He turns to his side, burying into the soft pillows and closing his eyes. “I’m thinking about quitting the agency, actually,” 

Yamaguchi tackles him at that statement, and when he looks down on Tsukishima’s form, shrinking into himself and chest heaving, slightly. 

“NO WAY! My sister would die if you decided to stop singing. You can’t! So many girls, and I’m sure a couple of guys, too, look up to you. They love your music. How can do you this to them?” 

Now Yamaguchi can really see the tears forming at the corners of Kei’s eyes, and he feels bad for pushing him so much, but he just wants to understand. 

Tsukishima looks away, doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, well I’m sick of it. It feels so, so pointless. I’m tired of it, I’m tired of dancing like a puppet for the company. I just want to go back to my old life. My old friends.” He looks at him with the most tired eyes that Yamaguchi feels, and his body sags a little as he falls onto Tsukishima. He doesn’t push him off, just let Tadashi collapse upon him and cover him with his body. Tadashi can feel a few stray tears that managed to escape the corners of Kei’s stone heart and make their way to Tadashi’s shoulders. 

“I’m just. So. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t date, I can’t…” He gestures between their naked bodies. “I couldn’t... be who I really was…”

The last part comes out quietly, whispered at the end of his sentence, and Yamaguchi can’t help but hold him closer, because, hey, he’s been there too. Staying in the closer sucks, he knows how hard it can be being forced to smile and pretend when people set up dates with women you don’t care for whom you’re supposed to pretend to be in love with so that they’ll leave you alone. It gets tiring and if Tsukishima really is the international celebrity that he’s seen snippets of on Youtube, then he can only imagine the he suffered his pain times a thousand. 

“Hey, it’s okay…” Yamaguchi feels bad now, for pushing him when they could have just remained strangers who got into bed together. “You don’t have to keep pretending to be something you’re not.” 

Tsukishima clings to him, and Yamaguchi secretly loves it, feeds off of his neediness and wants to keep holding him and petting his hair while Kei chooses to reveal all of his big, bad secrets to him as the both slowly drift off into a comfortable sleep together.


	4. tsukki figures some stuff out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tsukki tries to make breakfast. yamaguchi forces tsukki to get his shit together. asses are grabbed, cheeky smiles are exchanged. and yama totally watches pmmm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for chapter 4!!!
> 
> pls let me know if you like it!!
> 
> my tumblr is ymguchi.tumblr.com pls make friends w my lame a$$

In the morning, Tsukishima slips out of bed, covers Yamaguchi with his blankets, and makes an entire batch of pancake batter, which is logically way more than enough for the both of them to feast on. 

He tries to make the soft, fluffy ones with a dollop of butter smack dab in the center and a generous helping of maple syrup that dabbles off to the side. Pancakes always seem like the solution to a particularly difficult problem, his brother had taught him this much when they were growing up, and he always made them for Kei on the morning of exams or before his most terrifying auditions. And now he feels like he can only try to repay the favor, for this generous stranger who took him into his house, into his bed, and even into his bathtub, which is more than he usually offered the many guys and girls that he’d had his flings with.

But that’s irrelevant from the point; his sexual history, a veritable assortment that it may be, was truly not what he was trying to dwell on. He was also conveniently trying to forget his embarrassing breakdown last night, where he also spilled his gut to this supposed stranger, and in an irrational part of his mind, he supposed that he was hoping that this could be the end of their story, leaving a nice note and a thank-you breakfast before taking the first flight out to Tokyo so he can try...to figure out this whole mess.

On the other hand, it was so tempting. To just stay. To make his home in this tiny, shitty apartment, to build a nest with this shy, ernest puppy dog of a man and never return to the world of professional singing in his home country ever again. As he scrambled the eggs and cut up some slightly aging tomatoes, he pushes these thought out of his mind as he poured the omelettes onto a tray and cleaned up any remnants of the mess he might have left behind. 

And his plan to get straight out the door without leaving any traces behind, bag in hand and shirt only slightly rumpled were promptly ruined by Yamaguchi showing up in all his naked glory, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while ruffling his hair and rooting around for milk for his coffee. 

Tsukishima drops the two mugs that he was holding, and they clatter onto the floor, breaking into pieces and dripping coffee all over the floor. 

Yamaguchi stares. And stares, looking from the floor to Tsukishima’s hands and back to the floor.

“Hotarou? It’s actually you? I haven’t just been hallucinating? Or having a really, really, really nice dream?” 

Yamaguchi looks like he’s still trying to process what the hell is going on, and truthfully, it is hard to take in the fact that you’ve slept with a famous Japanese pop singer that you’ve only known for a couple of hours, but Tsukishima looks like he could murder him. Or have sex with him. 

(Or both, possibly).

“Um, are you okay?” Yamaguchi looks down, then back at Tsukishima, then back at his buck-naked ass and turns perfectly red, from head to, ehm, extremities. 

He runs back into the bedroom, and Tsukishima can hear him throwing the clothes on his floor around in an attempt to locate some boxers, which gives him just the right amount of time to compose himself long enough to mop up the mess he made of the floor. 

When he comes back out, both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are blushing, awkwardly, as it usually is hard to deal with the drunken mistakes of yesterday when you’re both awake and sober and the tantalizing aroma of buttermilk pancakes hangs between you. They persevered, however, sitting crammed together awkward on Yamaguchi’s tiny breakfast table that was more or less stuffed into his tiny kitchen, not saying more than two words like “Pass the butter” or “This eggs taste great”. 

“I, um…” Yamaguchi pushed around the food on his plate, not meeting Tsukishima’s eyes, and Tsukishima took that as a cue to fix him with his cold stare and force him to get on with it as fast as possible, so he could leave as fast as possible and this whole entire nightmare would finally go away and he could try to sort out the mess of his life and maybe return to his tour if his managers and directors and the entire company as a whole didn’t try to kill him before that. 

“Listen, do you want to stay over for a day, or something?” Yamaguchi has real sincerity in his voice and Tsukishima balks, more so when he even tries to that pseudo-reassuring hand holding thing when he places one warm hand on top of Kei’s and looks into his eyes sympathetically. 

“Yeah. No.” Tsukishima gets up, abruptly, finally ready to leave, and gathers up his stuff so that he can make a break for the door. “I don’t really. Do. This whole, um, talking thing.” 

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi’s legs somehow manage to get the better of him, even though Tsukishima has got more than a couple inches over him, and has legs that run on for days, even by American standards, not that he’s noticing. “You just leave, right?”

Now it’s Yamaguchi’s chance to look intimidating, and Tsukishima’s chance to lose his voice and stay stricken to the floor. Yamaguchi corners him just as he’s making his way out of the front door, and Tsukishima gets a dear in the headlights kind of look as this stocky yet stubborn man immobilizes him by pinning him against the door. Yamaguchi fixes him with a hard look now, stares into his eyes like he’s trying to analyse all of Kei’s weaknesses. and he gulps because it looks like all the other escape routes are blocked off, including the sole window in Yamaguchi’s bedroom. 

“Look, I, um...Tsukki? Hotarou? Kei? Whoever the hell you are, you’ve honestly got a lot of stuff that you really, really need to sort out. You should just crash here for a couple nights and figure out, like, what the hell you’re doing man. Look, don’t worry about me okay? I work like crazy, I’ll be out of your hair. Just like, I dunno, order take out or something. Or cook yourself a real mean. Or just vegetate for a little bit and sit in front of the TV for a couple of hours, watch a Law and Order SVU marathon, they’re literally always on, okay? Just don’t-” 

And at this part of the poignant monologue, Yamaguchi sighs, frustrated, and looks away to muse up his hair in frustration. 

“Don’t keep hurting yourself, okay? Look I’ve been in exactly the same place that you are in right now, well, except for the whole I’m-a-famous-celebrity-and-nobody-knows-it thint, but trust me, you don’t want to do something drastic. Or stupid. Or possibly both. Okay? Let me take care of you for a couple of days, and then you can do whatever the hell you want.

And if you just want to up and leave, that’s totally fine too. If I get back from the lab and you’re not here, and all of my shit’s stolen, I’ll be okay with it. As long as I know you’re not...hurting too much, okay? You feel me?” 

Yamaguchi disappears into the bedroom and reappears in his slacks and a nice button down, wearing the same crumpled tie that Tsukishima had taken off of him last night. He has trouble tying it properly, and Tsukishima finally shakes himself out of his stupor long enough to swat Tadashi’s hands away. 

“You’re doing the not up completely wrong, idiot. No wonder no one else was trying to pick you up last night.” 

Yamaguchi looks a little more than mildly offended but when he looks into Tsukishima’s eyes, he knows that he’s just kidding, from the way that he tries to hid the upturned corners of his burgeoning smile. 

“And thank you, seriously. I really need to get my head screwed on straight before I head back to Japan. I owe you, a lot,” he bows his head slightly, and Yamaguchi’s not sure if it’s because he’s so tall or because he’s really trying to thank him. All he knows is that he wants to remember this moment forever, no matter how cliche it actually is, from the way their fingers were brushing slightly to the way that Tsukishima blushed, ever so slightly, before turning away. 

Yamaguchi felt a little emboldened after that. He grabbed Tsukishima’s ass impulsively, and kissed his cheek one final time, much to his surprise, and winked at him before pulling his backpack on his shoulder and running out the door. 

“Just try not to steal any of my anime figures okay? I’ve very attached to the Madoka Magica ones, I will track you down if I come home and they aren’t there.” 

Tsukishima shoos him away and then turns to close the front door. He’s all alone now, in this tiny, messy house. How is he going to start sorting his live out now?


End file.
